Anal Fiction : Trouble Feature
by fuckyeahukesassproblems
Summary: Look, I know this sounds like the name of a bad porno, and in parts it probably will be just that, but it's really not as bad as it looks... ok maybe that was a lie. Oh fuck it, just read it, you'll see! It's essentially a Rocky Horror parody, and it is really cracky, and full of weird. Warnings for possible red g-strings, dead satanists and death by jizz for a certain bride-to-be.
1. Chapter One : Satanists and Shitstorms

"Let me tell you a story"

Fred Abberline leaned back in his creaking chair, his hands clasped firmly underneath his chin, a crooked smile appearing on his otherwise serious-looking face. He laughed, his ginger bags skating over his eyes as he lowered his head as if to gather his composure, then looked up again, and was once again serious, though it was obvious that his composed visage would not remain for much longer. He sighed a withering note, then leaned back even further on his desk chair, toppling, files and all, onto the floor behind him.

Let's start that one again, shall we?

Take two.

"Let me tell you a story," said Mr. Abberline, covered in plasters and struggling to speak through his tight facial bandages, "a strange story, which to you may make no sense at all, and you may pass it off as sheer nonsense if you will, but I can guarantee from evidence, reports and sheer scientific truth that what you are about to hear is completely and utterly true. It is out of habit, out of the ordinary, out of character even, but it is truth all the same. For my dear readers, the truth is a strange and dangerous thing, that..."

Cut. I'm dying of boredom here, maybe something a little more...snappy.

"Let me tell you a story..."

No.

"Let me tell..."

No.

"This is a story and by god if you don't get it, you can shut the hell up."

...

Better.

Now that that idiot's out of the way, let me tell you a story, a strange and mystical sparkle story about a vampire, an emo hipster, and some topless men in crap...

Oh shit sorry, that was Twilight. I am so, so, soooooooo sorry. Though the topless men are probably the closest way to describe what this story actually is, and as am saying this it appears to me that you're bored out of your tiny little skulls. Then again, that _is_ what narrators are for, right?

...

Right?

...

Who's with me?

...

...

...

Ah fuck it, let's just say it's a weird fucking story and leave it at that.

It all started merely a few weeks ago, in a place called London, at the wedding of two people who would rather not have their names disclosed (but left the initials C.P. and E.M., so it's fairly obvious either way), and who just happened to hold a midnight satanist wedding on the night of a full moon in a strange little strategically placed plot-central countryside spot just outside of some big part of London, god knows where, it doesn't really matter. But they are not who this story is about, rather, their groomsmen, who were uncharacteristically making gooey labu-labu faces at each other for the entire ceremony ad just could not wait to get to the ceremony so they could blow a fag for a while, if you know what I mean. Of course, there were children at the wedding, and unfortunately for them there was no more room in the loo because of the fat grandmother of some distant relative of someone who only turned up for the cake, and the gents had already been 'taken' for the night by the bride's highly intoxicated brother and his weed stash. There was a vast array of portaloos too, but everybody knows that that'd be practically impossible, especially with these imbeciles. Anyway, even if they had been acrobatic enough to fit in one of those, their chance was already gone, because in their boredom the kids had piled them up into a heap and had taken to setting them on fire in their own cute little satanist way.

But lack of room besides, they thought "oh, fuck it", and proceeded to heavily make out on the personalised satanist dancefloor, which was smeared with blood from the hog roast, and _sort of on fire_.

But who cared, this was _fanfiction_, _anything_ could happen.

So, the two lovebirds, or "love-crows" as a certain Mr. Emo liked to call them, were getting rather busy on the dancefloor when the band came out, and the first dance was announced - the ever-sweet and sentimental Mr. and Mrs. Emo had decided on the ever-classic wonder "I LOVE YO BITCH NOW TAKE IT AND DIE!" by DEATHmosh, and they had taken to the fiery dancefloor in an instant, lovingly tearing into each other's eyes, their platform heels digging into our two love-ravens' backs. Nevertheless, no one noticed their appearance, and it wasn't until the newlywed Mrs. Emohive had slipped on something white and sticky and broken her leg that things started to get a little ... strange.

Of course, for the sake of the plot, everything went up in shit. Mrs. Emo and Mr Emo were immediately engulfed in the flames, and with the added fuel of the nondescript-nameless-sticky-substance that had led them to their glorious and oddly fitting death, the flames spread like wildfire, and pretty much everyone died.

Other than the bride's brother, who was currently choking on his own vomit and was to die later of 'unknown causes' and the fat grandma with digestion issues who really needed some Weetabix.

Unfortunately for our two lovebirds, this was by no means good news; that grandma was a bit of a bitch when she wanted to be, and seeing her precious emo cake engulfed in flames was the last straw in a huge pile, and she began to morph into a creature unlike anything they had ever seen. Fat, grotesquely so, with moobs up to its arse and bum flabs that could wipe out an army in one sole shake. It was one fucked up beast.

So, snapped out of their ravishing by the creepy fucking monster, they got up and ran, completely naked from the waist down, and oh so confused, until they reached the closest portaloo on the satanic mound, shut themselves in, and hyperventilated like hell.

"Welp" said Sebastian, "That was an _amazing _idea."

"Sure was" replied Will, who was straightening his blood-soaked tie and grinning like a mental person, "Fancy marrying me, _my dear?_"


	2. Chapter Two : G-strings And Gay Knights

**Chapter Two : We Love You, Strategically Placed Plot-central Rainbow Castle**

As if that shitstorm wasn't enough, the two love-ravens had a lot on their hands, especially the nondescript white liquid and the blood, and even now they could not be sure if it was the blood of the hog from the barbecue or the blood of the untimely deceased Mr. and Mrs. Emohive. The terror they were to encounter was by no means over, and what they would see next would both haunt and mildly arouse them for decades to come. But before that, they had the somewhat pressing problem of the shit troll yet to overcome. It had grown both in size and in the reeking odour it left behind, and it had taken to de-foresting the surrounding woods in an attempt to find some form of fibre so it could shrink back to its original, but still quite large and smelly, figure.

Peeping through the tiny but sufficient peephole of the mauled and badly burned portaloo, Will could not tell which would be worse; this fat fuck or the constipated grandma, though he was sure that either would be pretty darn bad, and after all this neither of them had managed to retrieve their pants back. But Will, ever the modern gentleman, had managed to throw together a rapidly deteriorating loincloth fashioned from the remaining few metres of bogroll that the shit troll hadn't deteriorated with its intense smell. And Sebastian, ever the guy that couldn't give less of a fuck in a dark forest full of human charcoal and shit troll, decided to go bottomless for lack of a better solution. Fair enough.

They sort of just sat there for a bit, not really knowing what to do, and really not particularly bothered at the time, until the reek got to them, and of course it had drug-like qualities, so even fine men of their caliber were reduced to panicked crackheads with the mental age of three year old psychopaths.

And what do drugged three year old psychopaths do?

Well there wasn't much left to kill, their unintoxicated selves had made sure of that, and the shit troll was already out of sight looking for more people to engulf to make up for all that cake trapped in its digestive system, so really all they could do was run about until they whacked their heads on the closest thing and passed out.

Typically, this just happened to be a fucking huge castle, and oddly, it was painted in swirling rainbow colours like a medieval gay bar (which was pretty much what it was, to be honest), and draped lovingly from turret to door in tastefully decorated buntings of what appeared to be giant red g-strings.

But those two didn't notice at all, and they were already spinning about in circles screaming "YAY COLOURS!" over and over in falsetto and gradually crashing onto the floor, puffed out and equally fucked up.

But then, just when you expected the chapter to end, the giant dick-shaped door opened, and a man, no, woman, no, man, no, woman, well let's just call it it, "it" stepped out and laughed a shrill little sex laugh, bending down to stroke Sebastian's now artistically tousled hair and pressing a red stiletto to his crotch in an attempt to wake him. But Sebastian had balls of steel, so that didn't work out half as well as he had expected.


	3. Chapter Three : Rohypnol and Red Shoes

**Chapter Three: Rohypnol and Red Stilettos**

"Got him?"

"But of course, my dear"

"But are you quite suuuure he's the one that you've been looking for"

"Of course, he's a damn god, how could he _not_ be"

"If he isn't, we may have to refer to plan B"

"Oh smush shut up you little thing. I'm having him and that's final"

"But what about the other one, boss?"

"What other one, manslave? And you must refer to me as Lady Grell and Lady… oh my, you're right. It could be either of them"

"Best take them both in"

"Yes, great idea, manslave, mmhmmhhhhhhhhhhhhm. Now get out of my sight before I ravish you like I did last night eeheehheheheehehehe…"

"Yes, my lady"

Sebastian couldn't tell whether it was the drugs, the blindfold, or the fact that he appeared to be tied up in a giant cardboard birthday cake that had made him think that something was up. Or maybe it was the cheap kink handcuffs, or the fact that he was completely naked and appeared to be suffering from astute ball injuries. Either way, something was fucking up shit and it wasn't the shit troll for once. Which made him wonder… where the hell was he? And why was he getting the feeling that he was in a strip club? And where the fuck was Will? And why did he get the feeling that he_ didn't really care?_

It was a good few minutes before he saw daylight, if he could call it that, for it was in fact just really bad red strobe lighting which fucked up his vision even more than usual, and stopped him from seeing much at all.

"_Need a little help seeing, sugar?_"

He couldn't really see where it came from, but a strange claw-like but simultaneously perfectly manicured hand reached out and pulled him up out of his box and into the light. He wasn't so much bothered that he was naked, alone and sexually vulnerable, but rather that there was a guy in a dress and it really did not go with his shoes oh my god. Sebastian had a good gaydar, it was world renowned, but his signal began to get fuzzy and fluctuated a little when he came face to face to this… Man? Woman? Shemale? _Beast? _

_Fuck this, _he thought, _it's not like I had much going on in my calendar anyway, I just need to give the poor…thing a lap dance and leave, is all, then I can get on with my boring life and forget this ever happened._

But of course, as stories often do, the plot fucked up Sebastian's little life, and once he was out of the box, he found that he had been tightly bound in red lace gift ribbon, and he was sure there were gift tags on his nipples. His blindfold had been removed, but in its place, the shemalemanbeast whatshisface had placed its clawy hand over his eyes, and through the slits Sebastian could see a sea of faces in masquerade, staring at his junk, laughing, and silently judging the size of his testicles

"Welp." he said ,"So much for leaving."


End file.
